


subway grey

by malwrites



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, F/F, F/M, Height Differences, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Murphy is a Little Shit, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malwrites/pseuds/malwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Cynosure,’ came to Bellamy’s mind when he thought of Murphy. He was the sound of a deep mahogany cello. He was rain pouring down, pooling in every crevice of Bellamy’s mind. He was all of New York’s lights, all at once.</p><p>— bellamy and murphy meet on the subway. cuteness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> author’s note: this is my first story! hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated. :))

Bellamy had a love / hate relationship with the subway.

 

While he was fulfilling his long-time dream of moving to Manhattan, transporting himself to work or literally anywhere else could be rough. Of course, it was good that he didn't need to worry about buying a car, but the subway came with plenty of challenges. The main one being his own legs.

 

It wasn't Bellamy’s fault he was tall. It was genetic, from his dad. But with Bellamy being 6’1” and his sometimes insecure and uncertain nature, he tended to feel like he was in the way. Obviously it wasn’t like he was the tallest person in New York, but it sometimes felt like it.

 

Especially when he met John Murphy. 

 

—

 

Bellamy was going to be late again. Again. The subway had stopped once again, as it always did, but this time it was annoying because damn it he was late again. He didn't need yet another delay. He also hadn't even had the time for coffee this morning, so he was particularly exhausted. 

 

At last, only the stragglers were quickly getting onto the subway, and they could almost leave. Bellamy’s grip on the pole he was holding onto loosened in relief as the final person got on.   It wasn’t love at first sight. Definitely not. Actually, quite the opposite. Bellamy didn't really notice how good looking the stranger was, as he was quite preoccupied with being grumpy about being late. 

 

A few moments later, the subway started moving again. The stranger took a seat near the other side of the bus. It looked like he had to lean forward a great deal to be able to steady himself as they lurched forwards. Bellamy couldn't help but scoff quietly, realizing how short he must be.

 

‘No wonder he was late.’ Bellamy thought.

 

He decided to forgive him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note: hey! hope you're enjoying this story so far. big thanks to anyone reading it! *hug* :))

Bellamy saw him again. He actually saw him almost everyday. 

 

He learned that the stranger was artistic as he drew intricate designs all over his arm. He was left-handed. He had dimples and God must seriously spite him to make this guy so attractive. Bellamy still hadn't learned his name, though. 

 

After all, they never talked. Sure, it was kind of disappointing. Bellamy had become quite intrigued with this stranger, and he probably didn't even know Bellamy existed. However, being that Bellamy could be very socially awkward, he never knew how to start a conversation.

 

 So he watched him from afar, and Bellamy was content with that.

 

—

 

Mother nature, however, wasn’t. One cold morning the guy was late (as always), and there were no spots left. Except, of course, right in front of Bellamy. Bellamy blanched as his striking eyes scanned the subway, fingers tapping his messenger bag softly. Until the inevitably landed right in front of Bellamy.

 

Bellamy was fairly certain he was about to die as the stranger's hand gripped the pole directly underneath his own hand. 

 

His foot was tapping quickly, and he gave off an overall vibe of anxiety. He smelled really nice, though, so Bellamy decided it was worth it to talk. Hoping he didn't sound incredibly weird if awkward, he cleared his throat quietly.

 

"Going somewhere?" popped out of his mouth before he could really think it through.

 

The stranger looked up, obviously surprised he was being talked to. He smiled a little bit. It may as well have been the most precious thing Bellamy had ever seen. It felt like when he held Octavia for the first time when she was first born. 

 

"Well, I'm on the subway, so yeah. Are you?"

 

Bellamy flushed at that. 'Of course he's going somewhere, idiot.' he thought to himself.

 

"Alright, stupid question. And yeah, I'm going to work." he responded.

 

"Me too. What do you do?" the stranger asked. Bellamy noticed again that his fingertips to his wrist was covered in intricate designs. He briefly wonders if they're tattoos.

 

"I teach history and some mythology. You?" 

 

"Interesting." the stranger responds, "You don't look much like a nerd."

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes at such a typical comment. "So what do I look like to you?" 

 

The subway stops before he gets an answer. The stranger smiles again, and lets go of the pole. 

 

"That's my stop. See you around." he says, pushing his bag higher onto his shoulder and walking off the subway. He's lost in the sea of people before Bellamy can process what just happened.

 

He's left with very minimal knowledge about this person. After all, he still doesn't even know his name. Yet still, he can't shake the intense feelings that seem to have grown within him. Bellamy pictures them covering his skin, like ink on the stranger's slim hand.

 

He's got some of the prettiest eyes Bellamy has ever seen. They're grey, the color of the subway. Subway grey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note: sorry this took a few days! hope you like it. please comment what you think of this story so far! :))

Bellamy saw him the next day. This time, though, he was prepared.

 

“So I never got your name.” he greeted as the stranger stood next to him. There were some other spots today, and the guy still stood next to Bellamy. It made him feel warm and a little fluttery.

 

The stranger nodded. “It’s John, but I go by Murphy. What’s your—“ 

 

He was cut off by Bellamy exclaiming, “Hey, I thought those were tattoos,” referring to the faded designs on his hand.

 

Murphy looked at his hand. “Oh, no. I draw them.”

 

“Really?” Bellamy asks, “You get that bored during work?” he says playfully.

 

Murphy half-smiles. “Nah, I make coffee all day. Very exciting stuff.” 

 

“I see. Sorry to cut you off. I’m Bellamy.” 

 

Murphy’s eyebrow raises in surprise. “For real?” 

 

 Bellamy shrugs. “Yeah. I’ve got a sister named Octavia. Weird names are kinda a family thing I guess.” 

 

 “No no, it’s just…do you speak any French?”  

 

“French? No.” Bellamy replies, wondering what this has to do with his name.

 

“Oh. Well in French, Bellamy means ‘handsome.’

 

“You’re totally fucking with me.” 

 

“I am 100% not fucking with you.” Murphy replies, his half smile turned whole.

 

“How do I even know you speak french?” Bellamy asked skeptically.

 

“Je parle couramment le français, imbécile.” Murphy replied with a smirk.

 

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. “Alright, what’s that mean?” 

 

“I speak fluent french, dumbass.” Murphy translated.

 

“There’s a French word for dumbass?” Bellamy asked.

 

Murphy rolled his eyes at the comment. “Well, that was a rough translation. Maybe not completely true.” 

 

“Ha! So does this mean you’re not completely fluent?” Bellamy joked.   Murphy’s voice got a bit quieter. “I don't know about that. I think my translation of Bellamy was pretty spot on.”

 

Bellamy tried in vain not to blush. 

 

— 

 

“So why do you know French, anyways?” Bellamy asked as Murphy got onto the subway the next day. Perhaps they could both get used to Bellamy’s odd ways of saying ‘Hello.’

 

“I’ve taken French class for a few years now.” Murphy replied nonchalantly. 

 

“You’re in school?” Bellamy replied.

 

 “Yeah, my last year of college. You?” Murphy asked.  “I’m a professor, actually.”    “Oh yeah, you told me….history and mythology right?” 

 

For some reason, it made Bellamy happy he had remembered.

 

“Yeah. I feel like I assumed you were younger.” Bellamy said.

 

Murphy rolled his eyes, something Bellamy was beginning to realize was a habit. “It’s all the anti-aging cream I use, probably.” Murphy joked.

 

“Haha. Maybe just cause you’re so short.” Bellamy taunted.

 

 Murphy looked up at him as if he was surprised. “What? You’re just tall.” he responded, biting back a smile.

 

“Okay, true. But you’re short with or without me.” 

 

 “In that case, I think I’d rather be short with you.” 

 

—


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note: sorry for the short chapter! I've been very busy lately but figured i ought to upload something. thanks for reading and reviewing!! :)

“I don’t know, O.” Bellamy said, swirling a wooden stick in his coffee.

Octavia groaned in frustration. “Bellamy.” 

Bellamy childishly mocked her voice. “Bellamy,” he repeated.

Octavia swatted his shoulder halfheartedly. “Bell, I’m serious. You’re obviously into him.”

  Bellamy sighed at his little sister. She was always so desperate to get him a love life.   “I don’t know. I mean, really, I hardly know him.”   

“Then get to know—“  The cafe door’s bell jingled as someone stepped in. Bellamy frowned as the cold air from outside hit him. His expression changed when he realized who it was. 

Murphy.

He didn’t seem to notice Bellamy as he walked to the counter while he took his jacket off. Bellamy tried not to stare at the muscle on his arms. He hadn't expected—

“Bell? You look like you've seen a ghost or something.” Octavia commented, waving a hand in his face, painted fingernails distracting him from his staring.

“Don’t look now, but that’s him.” Bellamy explained, lowering his voice.

Octavia’s jaw dropped and she immediately disregarded Bellamy’s request, craning her neck to see Murphy. He was now standing behind the counter, looking down at the cash register. 

“Holy shit he works here, O.”

  Octavia rolled her eyes. “I noticed. So, go talk to him.”

  Bellamy’s eyes widened as he looked at his sister. “No way.”  

“Why not?”

Bellamy spluttered. “B-because…I…he…”

  “You’re unbelievable. I gotta go anyway. Talk to him after I leave.”

“What? Where are you going?” Bellamy asked, not wanting to be alone with Murphy, considering the cafe was mostly empty.  

Lincoln and I have plans.” Octavia answered, picking up her purse and slinging it over her shoulder.  


“Since when?” Bellamy whisper-yelled. 

Octavia smiled, as if Bellamy’s flustered state pleased her. “Since now. Bellamy, talk to him.” she replied plainly, and exited the cafe. 

The bell jingled as she left, like it was mocking Bellamy. Panicked, he looked towards the front counter again. Murphy pretty much looked the same as he always did: black jeans, white t-shirt, unruly hair, scuffed adidas shoes, and his perpetual unreadable expression.

‘Cynosure,’ came to Bellamy’s mind when he thought of Murphy. He was the sound of a deep mahogany cello. He was rain pouring down, pooling in very crevice of Bellamy’s mind. He was all of New York’s lights, all at once. He was—

“Is that all?” Murphy asked, interrupting Bellamy’s thoughts. Another customer had come in without Bellamy noticing. They nodded at Murphy and went to sit somewhere on the other side of the cafe.

Bellamy took the opportunity and stood up quickly, speed walking to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him, took a minute to thank God that it was a single person bathroom, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He splashed some of the cool water from the sink onto his face, and took a deep breath,

‘Alright,’ he thought to himself, ‘Get it together. He’s just another human. Since when do I give myself pep talks?’ he briefly wondered. 

Bellamy exited the bathroom, wiping his hands on his jacket as he walked back to his table. Approaching the table, he noticed a dark smudge on a napkin. Curiously flipping it over, he realized the smudge was words. 

Rather, a number. A phone number.

  Beneath the number it said, “Call me sometime. - Murphy”


End file.
